


lighter than air

by amagpie



Series: start the spark [6]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Strap-Ons, affection!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amagpie/pseuds/amagpie
Summary: “I really thought if anyone was gonna be using a strap-on in this relationship, it would be Margo,” Quentin says, adjusting the buckles on his hips for the hundredth time.





	lighter than air

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from a note I wrote in my phone that said “Ummm Quentin using a strap on Margo????? Or Eliot????? Whaaaaaa losing my mind”. So, enjoy!

“I really thought if anyone was gonna be using a strap-on in this relationship, it would be Margo,” Quentin says, adjusting the buckles on his hips for the hundredth time. 

“But she doesn’t look half as cute as you do in it.”

“No, because Margo would look like a warrior princess with a dildo between her legs, while I look like a teacup dipped in leather.”

Eliot grasps Quentin’s shoulders and strokes soothing patterns. “You look hot.”

Quentin stares at him balefully. 

Eliot’s expression stays just as serious, but he can’t control the lilt of one side of his lips as he says, “The hottest teacup.”

“Fuck off,” Quentin laughs. 

“Fuck me.”

Quentin stares, and Eliot looks down on him so sweetly he thinks he might burst. The embarrassment is hot under his skin, but he thinks the desire might just weigh out.

“You really don’t think this looks stupid?” Quentin asks.

“No, I don’t think it looks stupid. I think you’re doing exactly what we want.” Eliot traces a hand down his arm, winding his fingers with Quentin’s and looking him up and down. “I think that I’m really excited to see what you can do with a cock that isn’t yours, and I’m supremely down for making sure that you remember why we’re doing it this way.”

Quentin swallows, that hint of submission rising in his stomach. “Because I don’t get to come?”

Eliot smiles. “Exactly.”

Quentin can feel the blood rush to his cock, can feel himself start to grow just that little bit hard, but he’s pretty sure that’s about as far as he’s going to get tonight. The thick dildo between his legs is situated above his cock, and nothing is going to be touching his cock or balls except the brush of the straps. A hot rush of arousal glides through him at that thought.

“Kiss me,” Eliot commands, and Quentin tilts his head and rises up on his tiptoes to meet him. The position throws him off balance just enough to make him lean against Eliot, his hands grasping Eliot while his tongue plunders his mouth. Quentin gets lost in the kiss, Eliot’s and his mouths working in tandem to soothe and stoke passion in the push and pull. 

Quentin feels embarrassed when he becomes cognizant of the feeling of his fake cock pushing hard against Eliot’s stomach.

“This dick is so hard for me,” Eliot whispers, and it takes Quentin far too long to realize that Eliot has a hand around the dildo. He’s stroking him like it was his cock, except it isn’t, and Quentin is getting to that state where he’s so horny that he wants anything Eliot or Margo can give him. 

“Please,” Quentin whines.

“What more could you want?” Eliot teases. “I’m touching you.”

“Touch  _ me _ ,” Quentin pleads, his body listing towards Eliot as if he really were pulling pleasure from his cock.

“Very well, if you need it,” Eliot acquiesces, his tone so over the top Fillorian royalty that Quentin would laugh if it didn’t make him so hot. Eliot tweaks a nipple, and the pain is good but too much too soon and Quentin hisses. Eliot switches to a lighter touch, stroking and soothing and Quentin feels like he can breathe again, like he can focus in on the pleasure happening in his body instead of the crazy mindfuck of fucking someone with a dick that isn’t his own.

Quentin wants to shove Eliot’s head down to his nipples, wants to force him to bite and suck, but they’re standing, and Eliot’s neck can’t bend like that. So for a moment he settles for the hand tweaking and rubbing him, until he remembers that there is a bed right behind him, and he turns them and pushes on Eliot’s shoulders to get him to sit.

Eliot obliges but also reaches up to grab Quentin’s hands and raises his eyebrows. 

“You can’t micromanage,” Quentin says. “Sit down and suck on my nipples.”

“I’m trying to dom you, Q, will you just let me?” Eliot says with bemused exasperation. 

“Yes,” Quentin says. “If-” He drawls out, “you give my nipples the attention they deserve.”

Eliot kisses Quentin’s stomach, his arms wrapping behind him to pull him close. “Say the magic word.”

Quentin rolls his eyes. “Please.”

“You don’t sound very pleading.” Eliot sing-songs, pressing kisses up and down Quentin’s stomach but never getting quite close enough to his nipples.

“Please,” Quentin grunts out, trying to rein in the desire to just start laughing. Sometimes he slips into his role so easily, and then sometimes he wants to push back. The nice part is that he knows Eliot will work to get him there no matter what, no matter how long they need to draw out the foreplay, or if they need to table their plans for another day. It’s that knowledge, that they could stop right now, that makes Quentin want to sink more fully into submission.

“Good boy.” Eliot latches his lips around Quentin’s nipples and sucks like he’s trying to give him a hickey. The guttural noise ripped from Quentin’s lungs is obscene. 

“Did you two seriously start without me?” Quentin hears from the doorway, and he has to fight to keep his eyes open with how good the suction feels, but he does it to get an eyeful of Margo. “I can’t believe this. I said I’d be home in ten! I’m the one who bought the strap-on! I called dibs!” 

Quentin’s pretty sure she’s joking, but he can’t be sure when his mind is very much focused on the feeling of Eliot’s lips around his nipple which he has been sucking on for so long that it’s so sensitive, and feels so good, and he can feel his cock rising under his fake cock and all his body wants is just to touch himself but he’s not going to. It’s a lot to handle.

Eliot pulls away, and Quentin whines at the loss of contact. Eliot soothes the wet nipple with a hand. “I couldn’t resist, Bambi. And look, I got him ready for us.”

“You’re so selfless.” 

Quentin clutches Eliot’s head to him, craving contact. “Margo,” he whines. 

He feels a soothing hand along his back, and Margo soothes, “Don’t worry about it, baby, you’re being good. Eliot, on the other hand, never learned how to share.”

“Fine, he’s all yours,” Eliot laughs, all fond. 

Margo’s hands on his shoulder turn him around. Even though now he’s facing away from Eliot, he still keeps a sure hand tucked around his stomach, holding him close while Margo directs him. “Hi,” Quentin says to Margo.

She smiles. “Hey.”

He surges forward for a kiss, and Margo happily obliges. She feels warm and comforting against him, tucked up along his chest while they kiss. It feels weird to have something sticking straight out between his legs, and he’s worried about poking her, but Margo doesn’t seem to mind at all. She just goes for it, and Quentin lets himself get swept up in it.

She runs her fingers through his hair. “How does it feel to be wearing a cock?”

“Weird,” Quentin automatically replies, the first thought coming easily. He’s pretty sure she’s asking not just to dirty talk but to make sure they all play this right. “But I like that my dick hasn’t, like, earned being hard yet. And I’m excited to fuck you guys how you want without worrying about coming.”

“Right,” Margo agrees. “So you don’t want me to suck your cock?”

The thought sends a tingle of arousal down his spine, but no, Quentin doesn’t actually want that. He shakes his head.

“Even though you’ve got this nice big cock between your legs, you’d still rather go down on me, right?”

Somehow she manages to phrase things in just the right way to turn his brain to goo. “Yeah.”

“Then hop to it, Q.” She gives him a sharp grin, and he’s helpless to sink down on his knees.

Eliot’s hands coax him down and stay planted on his shoulders while he tugs up Margo’s dress. There’s something so comforting about feeling Eliot strong and secure sitting behind him while Margo crowds in front of him, like he’s surrounded by the two best people he knows. And he loves them, and they love him, and if the arousal didn’t make him dizzy then that thought surely does.

Margo props a leg up on the bed, and Quentin gazes up at her. “What?” she laughs down at him, cupping his face.

He shakes his head, a smile and half-laugh firmly planted on his face no matter how hard he tries to tamp it down to keep things sexy. “Nothing.”

Margo’s mouth moves of its own accord to match the grin, but her eyes stay quizzical.

“I just love you.” Quentin presses a kiss to her thigh.

“ _ Oh _ .” Margo stays still, hand still on his face and pussy right there in front of him. “I love you, too.” Coming out of Margo’s mouth it sounds stilted, like the first part of the phrase started casual and then turns serious. 

Quentin kisses her thigh again, basking in the easy glory of love all around him.

Eliot pulls focus, announcing, “And I love both of you.”

“We know.” Margo yanks Quentin’s head close to her. Apparently, she’s done with the sentimentalities and is ready for Quentin to worship her. Quentin will never complain about that. 

She holds his face close, and Quentin goes for it. He licks and sucks and does everything she’s been teaching him for the past few months, every way he knows to bring her pleasure. The taste of her is a delight on his tongue, and he can feel arousal pooling low within him. She just tastes so damn good every time. He’s never going to get enough of Margo.

“Work your tongue,” She urges, and Quentin thought he was already doing that, but there’s something about an explicit instruction that gets him hot. He tries harder, moving his tongue more firmly against her. “Good,” she says, and Quentin flushes from the praise.

Eliot’s hands stroke Quentin’s shoulders as he goes down on Margo. They stay gentle for the most part, a contrast to Margo’s demanding hands in his hair. But when she holds him tight, leg shaking like she’s about to come, Eliot gets more forceful. A hand moves to the back of his head and just pushes, grinding Quentin’s face more fully against Margo, locking him in. 

Quentin grasps onto Margo’s thighs, needing to do something with the full force of his arousal, the hot knowledge of Eliot and Margo pushing him to give Margo pleasure.

Eliot lets him up for air, and Margo allows it, allows herself to plateau before the edge of her orgasm. Quentin stays close but gasps for breath before Eliot shoves his face forward again. His nose and mouth are buried in Margo, and Quentin is heady with the thought that  _ he can’t breathe _ . 

His lungs ache, but he keeps going, keeps licking into Margo. The pressure is good, he hopes it’s good for her. Eliot keeps him so close, then lets him up again, then back down into the folds of her. 

Quentin loves being completely surrounded by them and feels like, in this moment, he’d do anything for them.

After another gasp for air, Quentin is held close. Margo urges him, “So good, Q, just a little bit more.” Quentin’s nose is pressing hard against her and his tongue works frantic to try to please her. 

“There, c’mon.”

Margo groans loud and free with her orgasm, and Quentin is pressed so close he can feel her spasm against him. 

Quentin gasps as he’s allowed to pull back, sprawling back against Eliot’s legs. The movement jostles his fake cock.

Margo huffs out a pleased sigh. “That was great, Q.”

Eliot brushes his knuckles against the side of Quentin’s face, and Quentin grasps onto a calf, anything to keep contact and get closer. 

Eliot strokes the back of his neck while he nuzzles against his leg, and Quentin feels content and so turned on. 

“Is it gonna bring you out of it if I put my mouth on your fake dick? I kind of really want to suck it.”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess go for it.”

His cock feels huge and is a shocking bright pink between his legs, and now actually looking at it reminds him that he’s wearing this extra thing. That Eliot wants to put his mouth on.

Eliot pulls him up to sit in his lap for a moment to languidly kiss him, then turns and pushes him back towards the bed. Eliot settles down on his stomach, body still too fragile to properly bend over, and keeps his hand on Quentin’s hip while he strokes him.

Eliot just goes for it. There’s nothing to tease, no pleasure he has to be mindful of. This is all for the visual, and Quentin guesses that primal urge to just get your mouth on something. Watching Eliot, Quentin also kind of has the urge to suck it. 

Eliot’s mouth and top of his head look so beautiful, and there’s something so erotic about his mouth opening wide. It’s even more erotic for the fact that this is just because _Eliot wants_ _this_, not to get Quentin off, not to please him, just to sate his own desires. Quentin bangs his head back against the bed with the weight of that.

“Damn,” Margo whispers, and Quentin peaks up to see her rest a hand on Eliot.

Eliot pops his mouth free, and the squelch sound sends a bolt of hot lightning through Quentin’s core. He keeps a lazy hand on the shaft, and says, “I know. I’m skilled.” Eliot looks like he is all too aware of his abilities.

Eliot slinks up Quentin’s body and settles on his side, a hand rubbing over his shoulder, then his nipple, then his stomach. “You open up for it so well, Q. So good.”

“Please.”

“There’s that pleading.” Eliot should look smug, it should be insufferable, but he says it so soft and gently that all Quentin feels is love.

Quentin is moaning and shivering, and Eliot is hardly even touching him anymore. He glances down and sees that Eliot is playing with his fake cock again, and Quentin cannot handle the mindfuck of this. It settles so deep inside him that he thinks he might burst.

“You’re gonna fuck me,” Eliot whispers into his ear. At Quentin’s whine, he shushes, “You’re gonna be so good for me, and you’re gonna stick this bright pink monstrosity inside me, and do exactly as I say.”

“Yes,  _ El _ .”

“I know.” 

Eliot lets himself fall onto his back and commands, “Prep me, Q. Get the lube.”

Quentin fumbles in the end table, hands almost shaking with how turned on he is, and he has a moment to be grateful that Eliot didn’t suggest doing the lube tut. In this state he’s likely to blow both their dicks off. 

Margo intervenes - whether because of impatience or kindness, Quentin never really knows - and unsnaps the lid and squirts some onto his palm. She presses a quick kiss to his lips then gestures him down. 

“Open me up.” Eliot spreads his legs, long limbs and body taking up so much of the bed even though he’s half folded up. 

Quentin snuggles himself between his thighs and presses a finger against him, just feeling it out. He wants to be slow and gentle, give Eliot everything he’s given him. There’s no place he’d rather be than between Eliot or Margo’s thighs. 

“Good, keep doing that.” Quentin kisses his thigh as he keeps rubbing the rim, relaxing Eliot and working out the tension. Sometimes anal feels like the most intimate kind of massage, and he’s completely down to give that experience to Eliot. 

Eliot hitches his hips up. “Slide in me, Q. C’mon, one finger.”

Quentin goes slow, knows they haven’t really played around much with Eliot’s ass lately so he has no idea when the last time he had anything inside him was. But his body knows what to do, knows to push against him and accept Quentin’s fingers.

He gets another inside, and Quentin almost feels trance-like with the action. It’s so different to the wild way he sometimes feels when Eliot or Margo finger him open. With the added layer of submission, Quentin tends to go a little intense with it. But Eliot still feels so in control, so calm, and it’s making Quentin feel calm, too. His hardness has flagged, but that doesn’t even matter right now. He doesn’t need his cock to fuck Eliot.

At the reminder of his own cock, Quentin glances up at Eliot’s. It’s at half-mast, still so big and beautiful but not quite as hard as Quentin thinks he deserves for being so good to him. With the hand not actually inside him, he reaches up to stroke. Eliot lets out a happy whoosh of breath at the touch, and Quentin feels so good for having caused it.

“Let me, babe,” Margo says. Her hand covers Quentin’s, and she takes over stroking Eliot. Quentin lets his hand slip away, running over his balls on the way back to the bed.

“I am the luckiest person in the world,” Eliot laughs.

“Say that again in a month when some magician tries to take over all magic.”

“Shush, Bambi, let me have this.”

Quentin kisses his leg, and he hears a noise that makes him think Margo had the same idea and has also kissed some part of Eliot. The affection between all three of them settles happily inside him.

Eliot languishes in the sensation for a minute longer, then says, “Okay, Q, come up here, I’m ready for something different.”

Quentin kisses his way up Eliot’s body, thinks hotly that it feels like  _ worshiping  _ him. 

“Um, should I-”

“Yeah, babe, c’mon. Stick a condom on it and let’s do this.”

Quentin grasps his cock - god, his  _ fake _ cock, he’s still not over it - and slides a condom down, slicks it up with lube, enough to make the glide so easy. He pushes against Eliot, who gasps at the sensation of Quentin breaching his body.

Eliot reposes in a state of delectable debauchery as he lets Quentin slide hot and slick in and out. He seems happy and turned on, and simultaneously completely unbothered by the situation. Meanwhile, Quentin starts to work up a sweat as he pushes in and out, trying to work the strange cock between his legs in a way that feels good for Eliot. He wants to be good.

“Well, this is fun,” Eliot observes.

“You can’t muster up anything better than  _ this is fun _ ?” Margo drawls. “Look at our boy, he’s doing so well. He deserves some sweet talking.”

“I haven’t had anything inside me in awhile, it’s an interesting sensation is all. You’re doing great, Q.”

“Thanks,” Quentin grits out. 

“Slower, babe, I just want to feel you inside.”

Quentin stops trying to get a better angle for Eliot’s prostate and pumps his hips slowly in and out. Eliot sighs, relaxing more fully against the pillows, his hand moving down against his hip to grasp onto his cock.

“That’s it, feels good.”

The praise works its way deep into Quentin’s core, filling him up with the sweetest submission. He’s proud that he can make Eliot feel like this, that he doesn’t even need his cock to be good. An animal part of him still really wants to come, but this is better.

Quentin fucks him slow and steady for so long that Margo cuddles down next to them, snuggling against Eliot and settling in to watch the show. She’s not even touching herself, content to watch them go at it. 

The best part of being fucked like this is that Quentin doesn’t have to worry. He doesn’t have to awkwardly try to fill this silence, doesn’t have to try to be something he’s not. Margo and Eliot know he’s just Quentin, and they love him for it, and they’ll let him be good.

“Q, I’m getting so close.”

Quentin whines at the reminder, that Eliot is allowed to get close to the edge, allowed to bowl over it whenever he wants while Quentin has to stay like this. He’s going to be vaguely turned on all night, and they’re going to take care of him, and he can be good.

Quentin fucks Eliot steady with the dildo, thighs and glutes aching with the exercise. Eliot barely picks up the pace of his hand. Quentin is desperate, but Eliot is the opposite of frantic. His hand glides up and down, scarred stomach muscles jumping, and then Eliot’s big dick starts spurting and the  _ sound  _ he makes is heavenly. 

Taking a big breath in, Quentin stills his hips and lets his muscles rest. He didn’t come, didn’t even edge, but he still feels drained. Margo motions him up the bed, so he carefully pulls himself out of Eliot and lets Margo unbuckle the strap. She drops it on the floor next to the bed, and Quentin scrunches up his nose in disgust. 

“If you’re not gonna be the one to get up and deal with it, then I don’t need your sass,” Margo playfully scolds. 

Quentin raises his hand in defeat. He scooches in between them, feeling needy but determined to not feel badly about that.

“So good,” Eliot mumbles against his hair. His hand tucks him close, and Quentin lets his eyes close, soaking in the praise and care that Margo and Eliot allow him. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, feel free to leave me a comment or hit me up on tumblr at amagpie.


End file.
